Forbearance
by jdav
Summary: An unsuspecting Gimli is horrified when he discovers the deception that his friend can be capable of. He fears for his friend even as Legolas walks the thin line between infidelity, discovery and ruin. A different take on the relationship between Legolas.


'Forbearance'

Characters: Legolas, Elladan, Gimli, Eowyn, Elrohir.

Summary: An unsuspecting Gimli is horrified when he discovers the deception that his friend can be capable of. He fears for his friend even as Legolas walks the thin line between infidelity, discovery and ruin. A different take on the relationship between Legolas and Elladan.

Warning: Mature themes.

I freely confess that I am not much good with portraying the character of Legolas. But I wanted to do a post-ring war story, just to see if I could. A break from the Silm.

* * *

I watched indulgently as Elladan crowned his prince with a wreath of wild roses. Legolas was laughing warmly as he squirmed, trying to displace the wreath. I could well understand my friend's aversion to the hastily-made adornment. Even at the most formal occasions, Legolas preferred to be clad simply without signet emblems of his lineage. It had taken me industrious application of all the coaxing tricks I knew to make my friend wear the crown for the marriage of Aragorn and Arwen.

"I think we might retire now." Elladan was saying hopefully, his grey eyes on Legolas's languidly sprawled frame on the chair.

"Indeed," I chuckled, "go now before I am forced to watch your complete abandon of control, my friends. I am off to bed myself."

Elladan tugged Legolas to his feet and winked at me before dragging him away to their private chambers. I shook my head in fond amusement as I heard the distinct sound of a certain half-elf moaning in lust. Not for the first time, I wondered how the detached, calm Legolas could turn into such a passionate soul. The naïve exterior was only a casing that veiled an extremely domineering spirit. Well, I mused, my friend was not Thranduil's son for nothing.

Legolas and Elladan. I chuckled as I thought of the halting conversation that Legolas had with me after the war, explaining the relationship with Elladan. The happiness that had shone on Legolas's face when I had endorsed the relationship heartily...He cared that I should approve of his choice. It touched me deeply as little else had. Since then, I had often occasion to wonder how deeply my friend had trusted me with even aspects of his personal life. I was proud of our friendship, and proud of my friend.

I made my way to the gardens. Ithilien was awash with the splendor of spring. My lips turned up in a grin as I inhaled the wild fragrance of the flowers. My time with the elves was certainly telling on me. I did not feel comfortable while I was underground. My preferences had drastically changed in favour of open grasslands and tree-shaded valleys. I almost touched my ears to make sure that they had not suddenly turned pointy before laughing aloud at my folly.

I had been crouching to examine a gnarled tree stump when I heard someone approach. I looked up idly and my eyes widened in amazement. Legolas was walking swiftly across the grass, his expression wary and furtive. I have never seen remorse on my friend's features until that night. But then, even in the dim starlight, I knew instinctively that it was the remorse of guilt. My mouth, which had opened to greet my friend, closed shut silently. I watched stunned as Legolas disappeared into the trees.

For a moment, I wondered if I should rouse Elladan and then find Legolas. But the steadier part of my mind chastised me for the idea. Legolas would have told Elladan about the errand if it was something that he could confide to his lover. A dim suspicion prickled at the corners of my mind. I swallowed. I could not bring myself to even contemplate my noble friend acting thus.

"A good morning, Gimli." Legolas smiled warmly as he entered the smithy where I was working.

I tried to return the smile, but failed miserably. I have never been able to keep up a false face and pretend as if I was ignorant of things I knew, unlike Legolas, who was humming softly under his breath as he began to examine the bellows that I had been working with. I sighed; I had to speak about it.

"You are preoccupied today, my friend." Legolas stated bluntly as he took in my pensive face.

"Where were you yesterday night?" I groaned mentally at the accusing tone of my words.

Legolas did not blink once even as he replied easily, "Somewhere on the shores of passion, Gimli. It was a long, long night."

Innuendo was a salient feature of our daily conversation. But that day, I hated it. How could he lie so easily to me? I was sure that I could never have managed it if I had been in the elf's place. I stared into the calm green eyes that held no trace of guilt or fear.

"Are you going to do this bonding thing that Elladan has been raving about?" I asked quietly, wondering how he could hide the truth so remorselessly.

"Why, Gimli!" Legolas laughed, increasing my anger twice over, "Is it not too early in the morning to talk of that?"

"I was thinking of this last night. The two of you are well-matched. Like ebony and gold, you suit each other." I blurted out quickly.

I wanted Legolas to end this night-time expedition. I wanted Legolas to be happy and safe with Elladan. And most of all, I wanted Legolas to stop acting.

"Deep thoughts indeed." Legolas stared at me thoughtfully, the tiniest unease flickering in his green eyes. "Well, Gimli, I have vowed that I would undergo the ceremony only after I sail; only after I am reunited with my father."

I kept track of my friend's nocturnal expeditions with a heavy heart. I could no longer blind myself with the foolish hopes that Legolas was merely stargazing at night. What shocked me was the complete lack of guilt that Legolas had in his dealings with Elladan. In courtesy to the humans who lived in the realm, Legolas and Elladan never flaunted their relationship. Their discretion had them in separate chambers at night. So I could only assume that Legolas was leaving on his guilty errand after he had parted with Elladan for the night.

Many were the times when I was almost at the point of asking Legolas bluntly. But I feared very much that I would be lied to.

Almost a year had passed. I was torn between remaining on good terms with my friend and confronting him outright. Legolas, on his part, continued to act as if he failed to see my uneasiness. Elladan remained blissfully ignorant about the subtle tension in the household.

Even now, I thought morosefully, Elladan suspected nothing wrong. He was joking with his twin about something. Legolas was seated next to me, regaling us with some humorous anecdote about his illustrious father.

"And he claimed that only Gil-Galad had escaped his charm…" Legolas chuckled as he ended his tale.

"He was an indiscriminate lover of the pleasures of the flesh in his youth!" Elladan said laughing. "I am grateful that you have not taken after your father in that aspect, Laiqua."

"I take after my grandfather in that." Legolas smiled at his lover.

Elrohir's grey gaze met my eyes for a fraction of a moment before I hastily averted my eyes. There had been no blissful ignorance in that look, I realized with a shudder. Elrohir knew or suspected.

"A moment, Legolas." I asked my friend as we parted to retire that night.

I had to tell Legolas. I feared what Elrohir might do. If the elf followed Legolas to his nightly haunt, then all was lost. I was no fool to remain unaware about the toll of infidelity. Legolas's personal affairs were his own. I knew that I had no right to cross that line, though I wished dearly that it would end. The price of discovery would be too high.

"Gimli, fear not." Legolas said quietly as he crouched before me, his pale features lit with a wan smile, "I shall not be going tonight."

I sighed. Of course, he had known that I was aware of it. But to have it dragged out into the open, when we had danced around the topic before…That made me nervous and yet bolder than usual.

"Why? Who is it?" I asked almost plaintively, willing desperately that he would finally confide in me.

Legolas shook his head wearily and clasped my thick hand between his thin ones. He said brokenly, "Don't ask, my friend. Don't ask. Elrohir knows, but he shall not tell his brother."

"Elladan is a wise soul. He will understand if you tell him the truth." I knew that my tone was pleading, but I did not care. I feared too much about the discovery and ruin that would be his lot if he continued down this dark path.

Legolas shook his head again. His green eyes had shed their usual reserve and daring leaving behind only a lost young lad who had made a mistake. I felt that familiar urge to protect him from the world. I clasped the thin hands tightly.

"If he learns of this from someone else then things will spiral out of hand. You must stop." I said firmly, my hand holding up my friend's downcast face by the chin.

"If I tell him now, I will break his heart and mine. I cannot do that. He will hate me more than he hates orcs. If he knows from someone else, the results shall be the same. I think I prefer to have him ignorant and happy…and with me." Legolas finished heavily.

"But how long can you keep up this charade? You act well around him, but it shall not be enough." I said sharply. "Have you given a thought to the fact that your act will hurt him all the more when he knows the truth?"

"There is no act," his eyes flashed in anger, "I am with him merely because I love him. I am not pretending to love him, for Eru's sake!"

"Then what are you doing this for?" I clutched blindly at the threads of my reasoning wishing that I had my father's willpower to simply forbid Legolas from continuing this.

"For love." He said simply before rising to his feet and walking to an impatient Elladan's side.

It continued, despite all my warnings and Elrohir's silent reproaches. It made me sick at breakfast to watch Legolas fussing over Elladan trying to ease his own guilt. Sometimes I wondered if Elladan could be as blind as he seemed to be. He would never remark when there was a late night summons and they found Legolas's chambers empty. But through the years, I did not sense the least of disaccord between Legolas and him.

Once, only once had he commented on the nightly journey. It had been a stormy night and the weather had been too cruel for even the elves. Most of Ithilien were confined to their home and hearth. My friend had gone despite my silent glare of protest. I had worriedly waited up for his return.

As I paced on the threshold, I saw Elladan ordering the valet to have a vessel of water heated and placed in Legolas's room.

His eyes had met mine uncertainly before he offered as an explanation, "I know he is used to the travel. But still, it was a bad night."

I did not reply. What could I have said?

There were days when I hated Legolas for this elaborate charade that all of us were forced to play. But the soul-deep guilt that shone from his eyes killed my words of reproach before they ever were voiced.

"Lord Gimli," it was Elrohir, "You look tired."

How could I not be when I was tormented by my dearest friend's deception?

"I was merely looking at the beehives yonder. Crafty creatures, are they not, despite their small size?" I said bitterly as I watched the bees go about their hive-building. Uncomplicated lives, I did envy them that.

"Gandalf was fond of talking about the hidden depths that we all have." Elrohir said thoughtfully. "It was proved right in the case of his beloved Halflings."

Hidden depths, indeed, I mused angrily. However, I blanked my face and said, "I hope that they are all safe and happy there. Legolas and Elladan make it a point never to speak of what might have happened."

Elrohir's wise eyes met mine steadily as he said, "Judgment is something that a clear conscience does not have to fear."

I suppose that we will see many of our friends passing on. I have a longer lifespan than my human friends. And Legolas has an eternity. Not for the first time, I wished that he had sailed. Then he would not have to see our friends die. He was young, and death was still a harrowing nightmare to him.

Our messengers had brought us news of Eomer's passing. I mourned him, for he had been a dear friend to me. I could remember our vigil during that night of the siege at Hornburg. He had been a valiant man. I grieved for his widow, who had returned to her father's home in Dol Amroth to mourn.

I grieved for Eowyn too, though I knew that she had never been as close to Eomer as she was to us. Since Legolas was in Rohan for the funeral, Elladan and I went to call on her.

Her health was rapidly declining and she was dependant on Faramir. But the calm, proud eyes that met us still held the courage and wisdom of The White Lady of Rohan who had single-handedly turned the flow of the battle to our advantage when things had been at their direst.

"Some days, I wish I had your eternity," she told Elladan, "Then again, I remind myself that we are all better off without it."

There was something in her clear tones that made me pause in my conversation with her husband and look up at her aging features. Once, I had compared her to Galadriel. Her spare, emaciated frame seemed poor parody to the beautiful woman that she had been. Mortality might be a gift, but its side-effects were not. Elves, they would remain the same, unchanged by age and illness.

Her funeral was not a quiet affair. Almost all the Rohirrim had ridden to Ithilien to pay their last respects to the woman who symbolized their nation. There were many from Dol Amroth, many from Gondor, from Harad, from Bree and even from the last of the elves who had remained behind in Imladris and Mithlond. She commanded the respect of people, I knew, she had been an extraordinary woman.

"I suppose Estel shall not be happy when he learns of the sheer number of mourners. He has always despised her." Elladan said quietly.

Legolas was standing next to the bier, his features dark and brooding. Faramir was talking with Elrohir quietly. As the mourners directed their attention to Aragorn's speech, I made my way to Legolas. He had not been himself for the past few days.

It was then that I noticed him stooping to tangle his fingers in the once luxuriant hair of Eowyn. I understood.

I sighed heavily and turned away.

"I am sorry." Legolas told Elladan as they stood on the balcony, unaware that I was standing below it.

"You are not, you never have been." Elladan said quietly, his voice flatly devoid of pity and accusation.

"Yes," Legolas whispered, I could imagine the horror on his face, "I could never help it. Oh, Elladan!" he exclaimed angrily, "The circles of fate. The son, the foster-son and the king!*** How did Elrond do it?"

"She was a remarkable woman." Elladan offered simply. "And you have always loved me. I do not think that your regard for me was in any way diminished by the love you bore her."

"Thank you."

The last whisper encompassed everything that had taken place in this charade; our uneasiness, his deception, Elladan's nobility, her courage and last of all, the pain of being in love.

It was never brought up again. If Elladan did ever voice his recriminations, I could not see any trace of uneasiness in their relationship. He was a noble soul, I knew. He had probably known even before Elrohir and I had suspected.

"I knew it when I first heard him speak of her. I guess even he had not suspected it then." Elladan told me over ale one evening. Legolas was speaking with Elrohir about state affairs.

"How could you-?" I trailed away into silence.

"What was the point?" He shrugged dismally. "I have not changed. He has not changed. We are what we were, and we still love each other for that. She was an incomparable woman and I respected her. But-", he faltered as he stared at the sunset, "I thank Eru that she was mortal."

***This refers to the basic storyline of The Song of Sunset. Erestor is the son of Maglor. Elrond is the foster-son. The King referred to is Gil-Galad. Laiqua draws a parallel between his situation to that which Erestor himself had been in. I do a poor job of explaining.


End file.
